


Awakening

by sparkysparky



Series: Beacon Hills RPG [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This started as a narrative for an RPG in which I play Stiles. He's slowly discovering that he's bisexual, and this was the first time in which his fantasies started going in that direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Beacon Hills RPG on IJ. Occasionally, after I've written a narrative or scene starter I'll realize it could make a decent one-shot so with a few alterations that's what I've done here. (Game community can be found at http://beacon_hills.insanejournal.com and it's AWESOME!)

Stiles couldn't sleep. He'd been tossing and turning for hours, unable to turn his mind off enough to go to sleep. It wasn't even one particular thing that was keeping him awake, but a multitude of things. The upcoming bowling adventure. How much it was going to cost to get the Jeep fixed. The fact that no one had tried to kill him in over a week and it was starting to make him antsy. That alone was enough to make him want to bang his head against the wall. It was just that he felt this was all the calm before the oncoming storm, and he didn't know if they were prepared for that. 

Mostly, right this minute, he wanted to sleep. A quick look at the his phone showed that it was past 2am, and he'd been lying here thinking for three hours. He groaned, and rolled over to his back, shoving the sheets off as he went. It was beyond frustrating on nights like this, when his brain just wouldn't shut up enough to sleep. Sometimes, if his dad was home, he'd drag himself downstairs and they'd have cocoa with the little marshmallows. But his dad wasn't home tonight, wouldn't be home for a few more hours, and Stiles never liked to drink cocoa alone. 

He closed his eyes, and tried to will himself to sleep. It never worked, but he always tried. Just sleep, he'd tell himself. He tried counting sheep. He tried deep breathing. He even tried reciting the table of elements until he was so bored it was either sleep or cry. (He wasn't proud of how many times crying won out.) Tonight, as usual when insomnia struck, nothing was working. He should probably just resign himself to a sleepless night, and get up to do something productive. Like try to translate a couple pages of the Beastiary. Research pack dynamics. Anything but lie there, wishing he was sleeping. 

But he just didn't have the energy to lever himself off the bed to boot up his computer. Heaving a loud sigh of frustration, he rolled to his stomach again. He squirmed, trying to find a comfortable spot, practically rutting against the sheets. Oh. He was an idiot. There was one thing he hadn't tried yet. Something that always helped him relax and fall asleep quickly. He was such an idiot. He rolled to his back again, and struggled a little until he could kick his boxers down the bed. Reaching out, he blindly squirted lotion into his palm. Preparation was key in these types of situations. 

Normally Stiles liked a bit of lead-up to the main event, but he was entirely too frustrated for complicated scenarios and mental role-play. Instead, he grasped his cock and got right to business, stroking hard and fast. It didn't take long to get hard (he was sixteen), but he felt almost detached from the act. It felt good, but almost like it was happening to someone else. Frustrated, he flopped back against the pillows. This wasn't working. Right then, maybe a little fantasy couldn't hurt. He closed his eyes, tried to focus on something--someone. Soft curves and long hair, gentle fingers. Lips whispering dirty thoughts into his ear. He stroked his dick lazily, adding a little twist to his wrist at the end. It was easy to imagine it was someone else's hand, someone with long, delicate fingers. But his brain shifted, the fingers grew wider, calloused. And that was new. Weird, but interesting. His dick certainly thought so. All right then, never let it be said that Stiles was afraid of the new and unknown. 

The phantom hands moved of his body, just a vague idea. He had no more knowledge of how a man's hands would feel compared to a woman, but his imagination filled in the gaps. His mind wandered to how it might feel to be pressed into the mattress by someone larger, broader, stronger than him. The scratch of hair against his chest, blunt teeth scraping over his shoulders, down to his nipples. His hand sped up as the thoughts flew through his mind, jumping from one scenario to the next. Legs spread as wide as they could, he thrust up into his fist. What would it be like to be held down by someone much stronger than him, only allowed to moved if they allowed it. His free hand wandered down, pressed into the sensitive spot just beneath balls. Imagined what it might be like to have someone's fingers go lower, press inside him. Gasping at the thought, he felt the familiar tightening in his groin and-- "Oh fuck." 

He lay panting against the pillows for a long minute, before he reached for tissues for a quick clean up. "Well. That was different." Still breathing heavily, he heaved himself out of bed. There was no way he was getting to sleep after that. It shouldn't be a big deal, he'd noticed that dudes were attractive before. Hell, he'd asked Scott to make out with him, and had really wanted Danny to find him attractive. He had drag queens for friends! Getting off to the idea of a dude fucking him shouldn't be a big deal. But he couldn't stop thinking about how he should have realized it before now, and what this meant. How it changed things. Did it even change things at all? There were no easy answers, and maybe it didn't even matter anyway. 

Heaving himself out of bed, he fished his boxers out from under the covers and headed into his bathroom. If he wasn't going to sleep, he'd at least take a shower and then get some work done. Or have a snack. Actually, a snack sounded pretty awesome right about now. His dad would be getting home soon too, so he'd warm up something for dinner and see his dad to bed. It would give him something else to concentrate on than a sudden sexuality crisis. Well, not so much crisis as awareness. Was there such a thing as a sexual awareness? Awakening, that was the right word. And that made him sound like a young heroine from a 1950's pulp novel. He shook his head, and stepped into the shower, letting the cool water wash away the sticky remains of his orgasm.


End file.
